


Tension in the Rain

by texadian



Series: A Tad Unconventional [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Freeform, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 18:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3988498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texadian/pseuds/texadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock picks an inconvenient moment to admit something to Molly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for mistakes. They're all mine. Muahahaha.

“I want you to know something,” he tells her straight out. One of his hands holds his coat above his head like a poorly constructed umbrella, while the other hand reaches for her own.

She shoots him an aggravated look, most likely due to the fact that it’s currently pouring outside and the nearest shelter, an enclosure by the next underground stop, is only a few meters away.

“What is it?” Her question comes out rushed and laboured.

Her eyes flicker around at others walking by. Some are in a hurry while others walk along, clumsily holding down their umbrellas.

She rocks impatiently back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting, when she feels it. It’s somehow different than what she’s used to, but still familiar. She looks around again at the busy bodies passing by and wonders if they feel it too. Or is it just her?

“I want you to know that I’m saying this now, not just because it’s raining and not just because it’s the only logical thing left to do, but because I want to.”

Her eyes focus on his. Through the rain, droplets of water, slanted from the wind, reflect choppy waves of light against his face. She sees him clearly though. Clearer than usual. He’s troubled and on edge. She feels the tension again, rooting her to the soaked bit of pavement below her soggy plimsolls.

“I love you, Molly Hooper.”

She smiles so wide, she can taste the rainwater flowing down her face -streams that split into two when they meet her nose and eyes.

“Well?” She’s expecting him to do something, anything.

His eye flit behind her, then back to her.

“While I have gained a basic understanding that kissing in the rain is romantic, I’m getting chilly and would much rather-”

She cuts him off, readjusts her grip on his hand, and pulls him out of the rain and under a small stone overhang.

They glance around at the surprisingly secluded spot, before Sherlock dips his head in and kisses her. Her wet hair flops down against his nose and he pulls back with a chuckle.

“You couldn’t have done your speech out of the rain as well?”

He gives her a goofy grin and runs a hand through his soaping wet mop of hair, trying to buy time.

“I thought it was romantic.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “I’m going to pretend that isn’t complete bull shite and hold you to it, Sherlock Holmes.”

He shrugs and watches as another tress of hair slips from behind her ear and rests in front of her nose. Small droplets accumulate at the tip and fall to the ground at an increasingly slower rate. He reaches out, unable to stop himself, and catches the water before it hits the ground. Entranced, it takes her a moment to refasten the strand back in place.

“Nothing more romantic than soggy shoes and drenched clothes,” she remarks, twisting the ends of her blouse between two fingers.

“I’d have thought you rather enjoyed the view.” Glancing down at his soaked blue Oxford shirt, he waggles his eye brows.

“Oh, I did.” She smirks and runs her hand over the material that clings to his body, following each crevice and incline.

“Shall we go?”

“To Bart’s for the case?” she asks in confusion.

“No. Course not.”

“Oh, are we getting chips or visiting your mum?” she teases, tongue darting out between her teeth.

“You laugh now, but just you wait.”

“Oh god. What for now?”

“She has a tendency of barging in on me at Baker Street, unannounced.”

“Oh.” Molly bites at the nail of her pinky finger before her mouth closes with a cheeky grin. “Where is she now?”

“I believe on vacation somewhere in the Mediterranean with my father, if Mycroft is predictable as usual for their trips. Why?”

Molly cocks her head to the side with raised brows.

“Oh,” Sherlock says to himself. “Oh!”

With a strong grip on her hand, he pulls her back into the rain and down the street to hail a cab.


End file.
